After The Fact
by Dragonsbane1611
Summary: (SH-SN) “You can stay with us for awhile, Neville,” Ron offered, gripping his arm to keep him supported. Neville didn’t respond. “I insist,” Hermione put in, straightening his shirt and forcing him to make eye-contact.


Note: This is one of a few transitional pieces between my little bursts of Neville and Luna goodness (NLG) and Simply Nevilleness (SN). All of my NLG and SN and those things in between is back-story for the epic 'Supposed Happiness' by MoonCroww. If you want to fully understand the whole situation and future events … toddle over and check it out. Thanks. ~Lady Roxyeth, Dragonsbane  
  
Important: *Excerpts* from 'Supposed Happiness', altered only to third person.  
  
Thanks MoonCroww for allowing me to plagiarize. Reminder: Mental piracy is a two-way street.  
  
After The Fact  
  
Fri.23.Jan.2004  
  
***  
  
The memories were going to haunt him forever. Sleeping or awake, it didn't matter. He had found this out very quickly. He tried to sleep at the bidding of his friends, but the dreams were too real, too soon and waking up did nothing but remind him that she wasn't there.  
  
So he hid in the unfamiliar bedroom, sprawled across the unfamiliar bed, just as he had been for the past seventeen hours, staring at the ceiling. But he didn't see the ceiling. Over and over, the same scene would play and he could hear her; could feel her.  
  
  
  
*He pulled her as gently as he could onto his lap. A frail smile came to her lips and she squeezed his fingers just a little.  
  
"I saved her for you," she whispered.  
  
 "What?"   
  
 "I saved her for you; she's alive."  
  
 "Why would you do that?" he asked the tears flowing freely now.  
  
 Her smile remained, "You love her."   
  
 "I love you, Luna. I love you."   
  
 She twitched violently and cried out in pain.    
  
 "I thought…" she coughed and blood bubbled from her mouth.  
  
 "No, never her, only you. Hang on now, you'll be fine, we'll find a healer," he begged trying to quiet her.  
  
 A shadow passed over her face.  
  
 "I love you. I always have. Tell the girls about me." Her voice was weak.*  
  
  
  
He clenched his jaw and cursed himself for his stubbornness of the last year and a half, and looked away from the sight he saw on the plaster above him. He wouldn't close his eyes, for it would be waiting for him behind his eyelids. The blank wall next to the bed did little else but tell him he wasn't at home and give the vision a new screen to dance upon.  
  
Harry had made the decision that he was not to go home. Neville was too scared of the things that awaited him there to object. Ron and Hermione offered their spare room and he was grateful; not just for their generosity, but also for the fact that Harry didn't. He would have, Neville was sure, if Ginny hadn't been injured, but he wouldn't have lived there with her; not even for just a little while; not now.  
  
Though, even here, in this house filled with love, he couldn't find a smile. Ivy and Lotus had been brought to his room as soon as he'd gotten to the Weasley home. They weren't crying but they weren't the same as they had been earlier in the day, laughing and waving as he'd left them with Arthur to go to the hospital to visit Hermione with Luna. He hugged them and kissed their soft blonde curls, before breaking down and weeping against their small shoulders. Laying on his back, both girls clung to his chest as he cried.  
  
*"You can't go. You can't leave me here. I'm not good at things. I can't make this work without you. Please, please, please stay. Don't leave me," he pleaded desperately clinging to her.  
  
 For a split second the twinkle came back to her blue eyes, she smiled again and squeezed his hand.  
  
 "Don't be scared, it's not so long," she murmured.*   
  
  
  
He didn't sleep that night or the next day, but held his daughters as they slept on him. Hermione came some time after the sun had risen and took the girls down for breakfast, inviting him to join them. When Neville didn't so much as nod in response, she had sent Ron to talk to him.  
  
"Oi, Neville," he called when he entered, shutting the door behind him. The man on the bed turned to him only briefly before looking back to the ceiling. Tears had long since stopped falling. He was still crying, but there were no tears left to shed, leaving his eyes bloodshot and dry.  
  
"When do I get my daughters back?" he asked quietly.  
  
Ron was taken aback, hesitating before sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at his friend.  
  
"You should get up and eat something," was all he said.  
  
"When?" Neville repeated.  
  
"Come on, Nev …"   
  
Neville shot upright and glared at his host.  
  
"Why, Ron? Why?"  
  
Ron didn't flinch.  
  
"I'm sorry she's gone," the red-head told him.  
  
Neville let out a defeated sigh and rubbed his face and eyes fiercely with a groan that grew to a roar, feeling more tears coming and desperately wishing they wouldn't.  
  
"It's alright to cry, you know."  
  
Neville growled again and tore his hands from his face, looking away.  
  
Angrily, he thought, 'What do you think I have been doing?' but he said, "When can I go home?" He didn't want to go home, but he no longer wished to stay here under the watchful stares of Ron and Hermione.  
  
The answer didn't come immediately.  
  
"After the funeral."  
  
Neville slumped forward and clenched his fists. That was not the reply he had wanted to hear.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ron said again, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and the man crumpled at his touch. Neville found himself pulled into a hug and he let renewed tears flow. "Just let it go. Let it go."  
  
He never heard the door open but Ron nudged him to look up. Harry had come and was holding Ivy and Lotus. Neville gathered his girls into his arms as his friends sat on either side of him and tried to console him.  
  
Try as he might, he couldn't stop sobbing. He wasn't crying for himself anymore, but for his daughters. The twins, on the other hand, never cried, just gripped his shirt while he let go once more. He felt Ron take hold of him again and Harry's forehead landed on his shoulder. It was then that Neville found out that he wasn't the only one who needed to let go.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
The crowd began to dissipate and Neville watched as the casket was lowered and covered over with soil and sod when the undertaker muttered a few words before walking away. When he was out of sight, Harry spoke up.  
  
"Do you want to stay?"  
  
Neville didn't look away from the newly replaced earth a few feet in front of him. Ron started to say something to him, but stopped when he took a few steps forward and dropped to his knees.  
  
A breeze stirred up and blew their hair off their foreheads. Neville gasped and clutched his chest.   
  
"Luna," he whispered, closing his eyes and sitting on his haunches. Harry and Ron squinted at one another and then back to the man on the ground before them. The breeze switched directions and Neville's jacket billowed around him. He prostrated himself on the fresh grave, digging his fingers into the soft dirt around him.  
  
"Thought about you again today and wanted you to know," he spoke into the ground, "that I love you." He paused for a moment, almost expecting to hear her faraway voice on the air. "Ivy and Lotus ask about you, in their own way. I promise I won't let them forget you."  
  
They let him stay there for a few moments, muttering into the grass. Ron looked to Harry and they moved to kneel beside Neville, each placing a hand on his back.  
  
"I have to go for awhile, but I'll come back. I promise." He got to his hands and knees and said, "Wait for me. I love you."  
  
Harry and Ron helped him to his feet and he hugged them both.  
  
"Thank you," he told them. They started to walk away, and Neville looked over his shoulder.  
  
'Wait for me.'  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
The first two weeks back in his house, he didn't leave and made it so people couldn't come in uninvited. He locked himself in with his daughters and fell into the memories. At night he would sleep on her side of the bed and cling to her pillow. Her scent was everywhere and if he closed his eyes, he could see her laying next to him.  
  
He still wouldn't sleep much at first, afraid of the dreams. Instead, he'd wander around the silent house, visiting his slumbering daughters. Moving to the bathroom, he would pause and smile slightly at the bathtub, remembering many private moments. Neville would stand at the top of the stairs and look down into the house she had loved, almost able to see her floating passed the stairs, busying herself with a random chore.  
  
One such evening, he went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine, not to drink away his troubles, but to remember her. Then, echoing from the upper landing, he heard her song. He turned to the doorway and made for the stairs. It was still there and he climbed the stairs to find the source. He soon realized that it was all in his head and he returned to his bed and let the melody take him away.  
  
  
  
Finding that Neville had blocked his house from outside apparation, Ron and Harry apparated to the exterior of his residence after not hearing from him for two weeks. They had been worried about him and his absence intensified their fears.   
  
They knocked and no answer came.  
  
Ron frowned at Harry who pounded on the door.  
  
"Neville? It's me and Ron," he called through the door.  
  
"We just want to talk to you, Neville. Let us in," Ron shouted.  
  
There was the sound of scuttling inside and Neville opened the door, wearing a dressing gown over his pajamas.  
  
"What are you doing shouting at this time of the morning? Come in, come in," he said heatedly, ushering them inside. "If you woke up the girls, they'll have words for you."  
  
Harry quirked an eyebrow at his friend.  
  
"Mind you, you won't understand their words, but they'll have them nonetheless," Neville joked, smiling a little and glancing up the short stairway and into the room at the end of the hall. He couldn't see any movement in the crib and exhaled slowly.  
  
"Where've you been, Neville?" Ron asked as he and Harry were shown seats on the couch.  
  
"Around here. Just taking some time off to be with Ivy and Lotus," he explained.  
  
"We've been trying to get in touch with you; to talk to you and you've not been responding to owls or anything," Harry went on.  
  
"I didn't feel like talking to anyone yet. I needed some time. Thanks for your concern, but I'm okay, really."  
  
"You have to get out of this house, sometime. The shop is deteriorating without you," Ron told him. "Hermione goes by everyday to see if you're there."  
  
Neville smiled at this and shrugged.  
  
"Just don't have the heart for it anymore."  
  
"You're not leaving it," Harry stated, and it wasn't a question.  
  
Neville took a deep breath and looked at him.  
  
"I don't know if I can go back to it."  
  
"You can, and you will."  
  
Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry, then turned to the other man.  
  
"Keeping busy isn't such a bad thing, Neville," he said.  
  
"I know. I just needed some time," Neville repeated, glancing back up the staircase and seeing Ivy peering at him over the top of the crib. "Oh, excuse me, but I've got two lovely ladies waiting for me upstairs." He winked and rushed up the stairs.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"You didn't think I wouldn't come back, did you?" he asked, sitting down in front of the headstone and folding his legs in front of him. "I took the girls to stay with Hermione. Lily's there today, as well, so consider them 'entertained'. Can you believe how big they're getting?"  
  
Neville took a handful of grass and let it blow away, a blade at a time.  
  
"So it's been a year. I'm kind of surprised I've made it this long. I didn't think I could live a day without you here. But you're not gone. I hear you at night. I see you in my dreams, which have, thankfully, faded into happier memories of life before. I found that I knew you loved me even when I thought you didn't. I hope, somewhere inside, you knew the same about me. I will always love you. I couldn't have done this without you."  
  
He reached out and traced the letters of her name on the cold stone: L … U … N … A …  
  
"The shop is doing okay; not great, but not bad. We'll make it. What am I saying? You don't want to hear about the business side of business. I know what you want to hear. Hmm. You'll be happy to know that the venomous tentacula won't let another woman near it!"  
  
He laughed at this, picturing her twinkling eyes, and continued tracing as he spoke to his wife: L … O … N … G … B … O … T … T … O … He got to his knees and kissed his fingertips before tracing the 'M'.   
  
"I love you, Luna Longbottom. Wait for me, baby. I'll be home soon."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
©2004 – Roxanne L. Martin, Writings From Behind The Red Door 


End file.
